


The Unknown Dismay (Part 2)

by Foreverwriting123



Series: Batman X Reader Series [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Genre: Anxiety, Bat Family, Cuddles, F/M, Guys this took so long to write, Late Night Writing, Torture, im so freakin' tired, so please appreciate it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 08:25:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7214989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foreverwriting123/pseuds/Foreverwriting123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>What do we have here then?” A voice mockingly cackles with glee.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>Your hands are restrained as they hang above you tightly with cuffs and chains, as they continually rattle and shake with such force. You try to wrench your arm free but the pain only makes you let out a muffled cry. Tight tape covers your mouth, confining you of any movement of your lips. </i></p><p> <i>Blackness continues to engulf as your frantically search for the source of the voice.“Wakey, wakey dearie.”</i></p><p> <i>The voice continues to sound high pitched, almost to the point that you cannot identity the voice to be real. “It’s Batman. He’s abandoned you...thrown you away like an unwanted puppy...”</i><br/> <br/>In a matter of life or death, you are left in the hands of a villainous for who wants nothing more but to see you suffer.</p><p>But in the end, with much disbelief, you are rescued by the caped crusader who lurks the streets of Gotham.</p><p>Soon, as you come to terms to how you wake up to find yourself with Bruce, the two of you begin to realise that all is not what it seems and either way, someone will find out the truth, no matter what chaos it will bring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unknown Dismay (Part 2)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I have finally written up part 2 to this part of the Batman fic! Ah it took so long to write so I do hope you appreciate it!  
> And secondly, excuse the terrible summary, god I am so bad at writing summaries!!!
> 
> I am currently wrecked from work and midnight writing sessions (only time I ever get things done!) so please bare with me if there are any mistakes! ((Also I typed this out all on my phone so please be nice if you see a lot of mistakes that you know shouldn't be there, it's due to a small screen and my phone's shitty autocorrect system)) 
> 
> So right now I am absolutely wrecked but I do hope you like this piece. Comments and kudos (is that it??¿¿) would mean a lot! 
> 
> I also hope you like the batfam involvement, they were so fun to write and they added a little light hearted hunour with such a serious plot! I know some serious fans will be saying "Oh this really doesn't make sense because in Batman V Superman and X and Y comics are different blah blah blah" but from the writer's perspective I want to enjoy doing what I love so having the batfam make it more enjoyable to write!
> 
> Also on another note, I do love writing this series and so far the response is wonderful but can I just say from a writer's perspective, I absolutely love it when you request from more but please for the love of God be patient as I do (just like every other writer) have a life that also consists of things like a summer job and helping out at home, etc so you will have to bare with me with writing.  
> It just takes out the fun if I am getting annoyamus tumblr notes requesting I update or else a certain someone will not read my fics anymore. Writing does take a lot of time and me being a perfectionist, I do take time in editing (but now I want to get some sleep!) 
> 
> IMPORTANT - I am going away next week so there won't be an update for the next two weeks! I'm terribly sorry about this but it's the one time I have off and I have family events etc coming up soon so it will be hectic for awhile! 
> 
> Anyways, sorry for the long note but I do hope you enjoy!  
> Also the next part will be known as **_'The Truth'_** so expect a lot of twists and turns to come!

Blackness, And then, the smallest slit of light. This is what you see as you regain consciousness, drowsy from whatever substance you had been drugged,along with being being confused and disorientated.

The back of your skull throbs like hell. You groan and lift your head to stretch your stiff neck. You feel the infuriating pounding sensation of adrenaline seep through as you start to gain alertness. Your head high yet you start to feel your limbs ache. 

You move your hand to inspect the damage- except you are unable to move. With a sudden twist and turn, you realise you are captured.

“What do we have here then?” A voice mockingly cackles with glee.

Your hands are restrained as they hang above you tightly with cuffs and chains, as they continually rattle and shake with such force. You try to wrench your arm free but the pain only makes you let out a muffled cry. Tight tape covers your mouth, confining you of any movement of your lips. 

Your legs are also chained in a vagaries position as they are spread out, keeping you up straight as they dig at your ankles. You try to kick your weak legs but it is useless.

Blackness continues to engulf as your frantically search for the source of the voice.“Wakey, wakey dearie.”

Your breathing suddenly begins to rasp as you breathe through your nostrils. You feel saliva form but you can only pant and swallow it down your parted throat while the chains rattle continually as their grip forces you to dangle a few feet up in the air while the voice laughs again.

“What’s wrong? Do you think I’m going to hurt you?” The voice asks again. There is a chill that hangs in the cold air which does nothing to help the discomfort of sweat that lingers all over your skin.

You let out muffled noises of plead as you move before you hear again, “Why? I’m not the bad one here. Oh no ,no, no, no.” 

You feel your hair hang in thin clusters over your face, covering some of your vision but you do not dare to shake it away. It is a comfort rather not to see who is talking.

You snap your head back, the impact dizzying you for a moment as your muffled screams mingle with fury and panic. The metallic scent of blood mixed with excretion now overtakes any other notion as your nose continues to carry the scent strongly.

The voice continues to sound high pitched, almost to the point that you cannot identity the voice to be real. “It’s Batman. He’s abandoned you...thrown you away like an unwanted puppy...”

Your cry comes from deep within your chest, like a wild animal that twists into raspy moans by the time they leave your cracking lips. 

_Batman?_ What did Batman have to do with any of this?

You just let out another muffled cry before the voice says with mocking sympathy, “Boys, take the tape off our guest! Let her relax!”

Your head spins around as your hear footsteps edge closer. Out of nowhere, a bright light flashes on and six men step forward, all tall and average build wearing coloured clown masks. Emotionless expressions frozen on their faces by their masks, the men circle around you like predator hunting down their prey.

One of them edge forward and showing no mercy, strips off the tape that covers your mouth, leaving your lips throbbing with pain. You splutter out a few coughs violently, sending a thin spray of crimson blood onto the concrete floor below you.

“Now, since our lovely guest is ready, let’s play a game shall we?” The squeaky voice grimaces. 

“No please. No, no.”

“Don’t touch me!” You shriek as you see the men edger closer and closer to you. 

But before you know it, a white blindfold is placed over your eyes and all you feel is darkness suffocating you again.

* * * *

Bruce mutters to himself as he drives furiously to the restaurant. It is 10:25 and he is just hoping Y/N is still there. He heard her messages, especially loving the one from her about him investing his time with his receptionist. But still, he was extremely concerned incase he did upset her. He couldn’t really explain what actually happened, but he had a proper excuse in mind. 

Rather than saying five of his children out of the blue decided to pay him a visit, he decided to go for a more relatable issues Y/N would understand, saying how he had a problem with staff not cooperating.

He had called you six times in the past hour but so far he got nothing, only your voice message. This was never like Y/N, sure he feels at times you are addicted to your phones so this seems startling to say the least. Something is wrong and he knows it.

As he drives, he scans the streets and alleys he passes, making sure not to miss anything. Suddenly his phone starts to ring. Frantically he answers.

“Y/N?”

“No Bruce, It’s Dick.” 

Instantly Bruce’s mode changes. “What do you want Dick?”

“I’m calling to ask if you are okay, you know, with everyone’s sudden intrusion?”

He sighs deeply. “Now is not the time Dick,” he grumbles, ready to hang up.

“I know but, Tim and I are on patrol and we have found something.”

Bruce doesn’t even get annoyed hearing they have disobeyed his stern talk earlier on about how he felt about their part rolling activities. “Where are you?”

“Near the restaurant Gotham West.”

Now Bruce swallows a massive lump. “I’m on my way. Stay where you are,” he demands before he hangs up.

Quickly he steers the car towards the boys while managing to put on the car’s auto drive as he changes quickly. It wasn’t the best but it was better than nothing. Once he makes it near to the restaurant, he parks his car and edges closer to the alleyway to meet Dick and Tim.

Lurking in the shadows, the boys appear once they recognise their father standing before them. 

“What did you find?” Bruce tries to stay calm but he knows he is frantic.

Tim hands over a handbag which contains receipts, lip gloss, a notebook with many pens along with a battered phone. Bruce opens the notebook and to his disbelief, he finds your name written on the inside of the cover.

“We found specks of blood nearby along with a single high heel.” Dick says, leaning beside the way. “What should we do now?”

Immediately Bruce has too many images conjured up in his mind of you being kept hidden away in horrible circumstances, which leads to: “We need to find her immediately before anything happens.”

* * * *

“How are you feeling now?” The voice gaggles again as you wake up. 

In a few seconds the blindfold is removed, but that doesn’t help to stop the soaring pain that you feel soar throughout your body. 

Although you were blindfolded, the men had carried out different tasks of pinching your skin hard in various places, pulling your hair, treating you like a punchbag while using a baseball bat, along with ripping your dress to tiny strips that still hang on your skin. 

You have been alternating screaming, struggling and shouting throughout the entire process but you try to conserve as much energy as possible in the hopes of getting out of here alive.

You let out a strangled breath as you try to compose yourself. “Please….” You pant out again. “Please….I’m- Please...don’t do this…”

“None of this would be happening in the first place if Batman could just obey his duties and rescue you like a dashing knight…” The voice taunts at you. “But once again, he has failed you, and you are left alone fighting for your life.”

You choke out another plea, this time adding, “I don’t know anything about Batman…”

That’s when the voice laughs again, a loud ferocious deep laugh that could break a window just by the sound frequency.

“That’s when you’re wrong. You do know him. He is everywhere in your life. He controls you to the point he could kill you…”

You want to counteract his words but there isn’t time before the masked men step forward again into the dazzling light and one of them catches your sight straight away.

 _No no no no no no no no._ Surely it is not what you think it is?

You let out one final startled gasp before the man steps behind you.

The whip snaps out, cracking across your back. When you jump the voice laughs. 

“That’s it, show me that it hurts. I want you to scream. I want to know you are hurting and that Batman is not here to save you. Stay quiet and it will only last longer. I want your screams.”

Again the whip flashes down; once, twice, three times, four times, five. A throaty sound rips out of your throat, almost against your will. The voice laughs again while the masked men surround you as your screams echoes around the room.

Between sobs and screams, you say, “Please, I’ll do anything, please, just let me go, please.” The whip moves faster and faster until the voice shouts, “Enough!”

The man with the whip backs away just as the voice speaks again. “I believe what I really want from you is not feasible. You see, I am a big fan of batman and tonight I am here to watch his big performance.”

Even as you dangle with pain, you can’t help but think, _enough about Batman. I don’t care about him._

“So please, your great performance is leading to the big finale, so please continue onwards.” Once again there is a deep husky laugh.

“Alright boys you better finish her off-”

Suddenly there is a loud thud and a crash as smoke sets into the air. 

Amongst the mist lunges forward three figures who immediately leap into action and punch forward, aiming their target at the masked men. In the display before you, the masked men lunge forward and when it seems they are not unprepared, various guns are pulled out 

Each figure focuses on one target each, giving high kicks up in the air and hard punches while the six masked men carry various weapons. Unable to watch, you shut your eyes tightly but you can still hear shits fire and the hard cracking sound of flesh against flesh again and again, along with various tones of grunts and sharp releases of breath with dire agony.

A metallic taste of blood forms in your mouth as you try hard not to watch anything that unfolds, that is, until you feel the presence of a figure in front of you. You flash your eyes open to see one of the masked men holding a knife, to which they are about to use against you.

You can’t help but let out a loud sharp shrill before you face your faith, that is until one of the figures lunges forward to stop them, pulling their arms back in such a way you can hear a loud crack. 

In what seems like a matter of seconds, all the noise around you draws to a halt. You untruthfully open your eyes to see the six men on the floor, with specks of blood everywhere.

You try to reassure yourself that you didn’t just witness something you would usually write for the Daily Planet as your try to control your ragged breathing. But yo your dismay, you also hear someone stepping closer and closer.

At this point, you have tears streaming down your face, unsure what to prepare yourself for to whoever just miraculously saved you. Trembling, the chains rattle as the figure steps into the light to reveal a tall dark figure wearing all black.

As you prepare yourself for certain death, you let another wail as the figure places a hand on you. You don’t dare to open your eyes until you start to feel other hands around you as the chains start to be released. 

You collapse onto the ground slowly as the figure holds you in their arms.

Your wet cheeks and throbbing body cannot focus on one thing or another as your vision turns more blurrier by the second.

You want to slip away to another world but a deep voice sets you off, “Are you okay? Don’t worry, you’re safe now.”

The figure has you wrapped around his arms like a small infant and it isn’t long before he brushes your cheek, cooing softly, “Don’t worry, you don’t have to be afraid now.”

With great strength you open up your swollen eyes to stare up at his face.  
A black mask covers his entire complexion, beside from his mouth and chin, which are visible as he speaks. “They won’t hurt you, I promise.”

You take in his words with effort as you stare up at him.

The last time you remember seeing before you black out are his eyes. 

His sweet alluring blue eyes. The eyes of Batman.

* * * *

Bruce wraps his arms around Y/N, trying to comfort her while low wails of ache escape her parched throat . It doesn’t help the agonising pain that sears your body as your head is pressed up to his chest and you can hear the hammering of his heart. 

He gets up and cradles your limp body as he instructs the boys to go get the car. At first they are reluctant as they would never partake in such a thing until they see the hint of agony pleading in his trembling voice.

With a bruised back and his own injuries to manage he carries you back to the car and they drive away swiftly back to the batcave. 

Once back, Dick and Tim manage to alert the others while Bruce, with a throbbing sensation all over his body, places you on the closest piece of furniture he can find.

Alfred rushes over, exhausted, unsure what to think of the entire situation.

“What the hell is bloody going on?!” 

Bruce can let out deep pants before starting, “Alfred, it’s Y/N. She was kidnapped and beaten, we don’t have any other sources knowing it was masked men down in the loft in the far side if the city. Please, we need to help her.”

At first, Alfred doesn’t even know what to think.

“Cassandra, get my first aid kit. Damian, contact Leslie Thompkins now.”

The dazed children respond immediately, rushing to do their jobs while Bruce continues to stare down at you, stroking a lock of hair.

“She will be fine Bruce,” assures Alfred while Dick gives him a towel to place on the back of the chair. As they lift you up, they can see the deep bloody scars that run down your body.  
“Oh dear lord,” chokes out Alfred as he examines your wounds. “Who would do such a thing?” 

Bruce is stiff, his body worked up. “I don’t know Alfred, but all I know is there was someone else there who was after me.”

He stares down at you again and this time he feels tears forming, a rare emotion at times. “She was hurt because of me.”

Alfred and Tim want to say something to comfort Bruce but a car swerves in just in time. Leslie rushes into the penthouse to discover the mangled body. “Jesus Bruce what happened? I thought you got into trouble?”

They don’t say anything else as Leslie orders Jason and Dick to carry you down to the surgery room hidden away from view while Tim, Cassandra and Damian follow behind carrying her surgical equipment.

When it is just Bruce and Alfred, Alfred steps over to give an usual inspection of any minor wounds. 

“I’m fine Alfred, honestly-” he protests.

“Bruce just let me bandage the wound on your hand, that’s all.” Alfred affirms gently as he starts reaching for a white bandage.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce slips out and Alfred is unsure if he is apologising to him or to you. 

“This is all my fault.”

“Don’t say such a thing Bruce, none of us knew anything like this could happen.”

“ I should have been on the lookout, I should have been there to protect here.”

There is silence for what seems for hours on end before Bruce speaks again. “After this, I should check on Y/N.” 

“You will do no such thing Bruce. You need some rest, just go to bed. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

Bruce, arrested mid aid, sits back down and allows Alfred to gingerly place soapy water over the black grit on his cut. 

Usually he would mend his own injuries but tonight is an exception. He wouldn’t be able to handle it himself, now knowing that Y/N is suffering. 

You allow Alfred to tend to your wounds and instructs him to get some rest as well, to which they both oblige, both walkibg to their bedrooms.  
But after saying hearted goodnights, Bruce Wayne manages to slip out in the hopes of distancing himself from sleep that he does not deserve. 

 

* * *

The next time you wake up, a long groan compiled with deep agony coughs through your cracked lips.

Your eyes flash open and instantly you start trying to figure out exactly where you are. The bare white walls are unfamiliar, along with the beeping and humming that you can now hear. You look down to find tubes attached to your left arm. 

Bemused, you try to lift up your other weak arm with grave distress to your face to find another tube lodged up your nose.

A clock on the right wall ticks loudly as you hear every jab with agony. You position yourself upwards slowly to try and sit, placing pressure on your hands to try and push yourself up. The pain shoots up and causes you to wince with pain as your limbs feel too heavy to barely manage the weight. 

It is only in that moment you notice the dozing figure in the chair beside your bed. 

There is pressure on your chest, making it difficult to breath. When you try to sit up, to open the path to your lungs, your joints crack.

As soon as they hear you, they perk up their head.

“Hey Hey.” The figure gently scolds,placing a hand on your shoulder. You groan again with the pain and discomfort before they gently stroke back a rib of your hair.

“Hey it’s going to fine.” The voice lingers as you try to ignore the agonising pain that shoots through you. 

“Hurts,” is all you can say through gritted teeth as the pain continues to explode everywhere inside and out. 

“I know. But’s going to be okay.” 

You can only huff to yourself as you tilt your head back, biting down forcefully as the pain continues to spread throughout your body. 

“How are you?” The voice asks again, with sincere empathy and perhaps a hint of regret and remorse.

 _‘How am I?’_ You grumble. What a great doctor this is. Of course you're not okay. Only fragments of last night distort through your mind but even judging from the pain you know it is something you want to forget. 

That laugh. All you can think about is that laugh. The crackling sound that pulses through as you remain here in bed. The chains, the rope, the beatings, everything needs to remain a blur in order for you to remain intact.

You now stare away off towards the distance as you mumble the same word. “Hurt.”

“Besides from the pain, are you alright?” 

The figure now reaches for your limp right hand and you feel the sensation of warmth and comfort, something that felt like a distant memory last night.

“I’m fine doctor, really I am.” You try to brush a hand away at them. They could be a psychiatrist or psychologist who are involved in your case but so far they don’t seem to be any help. 

But the only response you get is, “Y/N?”

You slouch forward, your heavy eyes deprived of any rest staring at them.There is mischief in their eyes that dances around, confusing you even further.

“Who do you think I am?” 

There is a moment of hesitation before you reply with, “You’re my doctor.”

The man’s shoulders fall forward, as if he is about to cry but then with the sudden movement upwards and chuckling, you realise he is, in fact, laughing. 

“I’m not your doctor. It’s me, Bruce.” 

You lift your head up, dazed. The name rings a bell but for you, you can only stare up, unfathomable to what to say. 

“Bruce? Like the billionaire Bruce Wayne?”

There is a deep set chuckle that wheezes out through his thin lips before he responds with, “Yes, just like the billionaire Bruce Wayne.”

Soon, even as you try to smile after hearing his comment, a deep swelling erupts in your chest as you begin to choke out, “W-wh-what happened to me?”

Now you see the glint in his eyes disappear as he looks down, baring the heavy weight on his shoulder . “You were found in an alleyway battered and bruised, almost beaten to death…”

You can’t help but gulp, allowing the excess saliva of desperation wash away. “Oh.”

Your head spins around as you try to catch up with the news. You can only moan again as the anaesthetic hi kicks in causing you to only try and fill the gaps of memory loss, but nothing works. It remains a blank that can never be undone.

“So am I in hospital? Where’s Gail? Did they contact my parents?” You babble but in the end.

Bruce only leans back. You can finally take in his deep heavy set eyes and pale skin as he wears a casual grey jumper and black pants. For a man in a hospital he still looks stylish.

“Y/N, I went to the restaurant late last night and I found you and brought you back here to our own private facilities.”

You do not even hear exactly what he is saying, only one single detail remains clear in your head.

“So you came back for me?”

He nods and slowly reaches to cup his hands up to your bruised cheeks. “Yes, of course I did.”

You both only stare in silence, unsure what to make of this all. Who would have thought of the two of you comforting each other in a hospital bed?

He brushes his thumb against his cheek and leans in to say with susurration, “I never meant for any of this to happen, I am so sorry. This is all my fault.”

You never expected Bruce to ever open up to you and admit his wrong doings, but his voice is so forceful and screams forgiveness, you can only languidly lift up your free arm to his face.

“I’m just glad you came back for me. I’m safe now Bruce, and that is all that matters.”

The truth be told, you would rather be bitter about the entire situation but now looking at Bruce, especially at his eyes, you can’t help but feel vivid images of last night reappear. 

The caped crusader who lunges towards the masked men and uses combat you have only ever seen in action films has the exact same eyes. 

His eyes are blue. Not the ordinary sky blue, his eyes are blue like the sea, crystal clear blue- shimmering and crashing and churning. Looking into his eyes you can hear the waves falling against the shore, see the foam flying into the air.  
His eyes are blue like the sky right before the sun disappears- dark rich indigo, with specks of wild colours here and there. His eyes are blue that perceive comfort, warmth and familiarity. His eyes are that kind of blue that reminds you of last night.

Even now thinking back to the night, you start to remember the masked man’s reaction to seeing you, as if he had known you. 

His light touch, his anxious tone and his protectiveness around you all comes back, just as you sit here with Bruce. 

Now your breath hitches, just at the sudden closeness between the two of you. With Bruce’s hand still on your cheeks, so close you can feel the tingle of his breath, you both edge closer to each other, longing for something more to clear the dull air.

Now bruce leans in and his lips brush yours. Not innocently, like a tease but hot, fiery, passionate and demanding. You want to pull away before you lose yourself but you can’t seem to.In this moment, your senses have been seduced and you can no longer think straight. 

“Y/N” he whispers slowly, prolonging each letter as if to savor them. You smile, your heart rattling inside your ribcage at his voice as you clasp a hand on the left side of his face. Never before has your name ever felt so wonderful, especially in such a moment like this, as you lean in for another and another…

But soon your dazed fixation is smashed to pieces by another figure, a tall young man with sleek combed back black hair. He doesn’t apologise for intruding, only glaring at Bruce.

“Bruce, you may want to see this.” 

Bruce, startled by what has just happened, immediately pulls away of you and gets up. 

“Coming Dick,” is all he says, but before he leaves he turns back to you and weakly smiles, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

Your weak heart can only cease the swelling in your chest for a few minor seconds as you lie down, feeling flustered by what had just happened.

Screw one of Bruce’s staff members to intrude at such a moment, and he didn’t even have any respect whatsoever. Instead he rather seemed bothered at Bruce’s actions. Shouldn't the man be allowed to have a moment away from all the hectic work? 

The sweat is salty on your lips as you try to figure out what exactly was the young man’s problem, but for now, your clouded mind plays tricks on you as your eyelids start to drop, causing you to become sedated with the medication that drifts you off to sleep…

* * * * 

As soon as the two men leave the room, Dick is the first to speak.

“Well that was unexpected.” His smart witty remark aggravates Bruce.

“Dick,please don’t-”

“I just didn’t think you were that close with her, that's all.” He shrugs his shoulders as they turn right to reach the entrance of the batcave.

But before they step close to the door, Bruce places a hand on his son’s arm.

“Just don’t tell the others, I want to wait awhile, okay?” Is all he says coolly. Dick only nods as they turn back towards the door.

Inside the bat cave sits Tim, looking over the large screen while Damian and Jason practise, or rather, joke around as Damian practises throwing batarangs for Jason to dodge.

“Hey, your aim is pathetic,” Jason scruffs but his joking is cut off when a batarang is thrown so close it almost cuts off his ear.

“OW! For love of god Damian, relax! I was joking!” Jason rubs a hand over his ear. “Jesus you could have sliced my neck.”

“Good.” Damian only refutes, putting away his weapon. 

“Will you two just give it a rest?” Tim’s shoulders sag as he turns to face them, turning away from the computer. “The two of you should be focussing on this rather than acting like hooligans.” 

Tim wants to continue on his rant but once he sees Bruce and Dick entering, he immediately gets up from his father’s usual desk chair.

Jason just stands still watching while he mends his cut ear while Damian rushes over. “Father! 

Cassandra, who is perched in a corner up above them all, oblivious to the other boy’s fighting, pulls out her earphones from her ear and looks away from her Instagram feed as soon as she sees Bruce enter the room. Without showing any strain, she leaps down from the top floor and lands gracefully like an elegant ballerina, stepping forward to greet Bruce.

“How is she?” She inquires while fixing her short messy bun. 

Bruce can only reach out his arm to her and rub her shoulder gently. “She’s doing well Cassandra, she woke up and is getting use to the anaesthetic.”

“That’s good. You’ll be pleased to hear that Dick and Tim were able to find the security camera footage from the warehouse last night. It isn’t much but it’s something.”

It isn't long before the others show no sign of sympathy of anxiousness towards Y/N as they are all drawn back into focussing on the bigger picture of their usual crime fighting as Dick asks, “Who’s on patrol tonight?”

“Me and the little squirt,” Jason responds and flicks a piece of paper at Tim.

Tim can only conceal his emotions as he sighs. “Honestly that nickname is more appropriate for Damian, don’t ya think?” 

There is a “hey!” from Damian.

Jason only gruffs and rolls back his shoulders with laughter. “It depends, to be fair it suits you all, even Bruce.”

Now Bruce cuts in, quite annoyed by their snarling. “Would you boys be quiet for one second and let me focus on the footage from last night?”

Now the boys perk up their heads and gather around the large screen. Images of the masked men carrying in a body bag and tossing open the content like it is worth nothing causes Bruce to bend forward and notice every detail of you, how your limp body is sprawled out on the metal table and how they work with such force tying you down to the table. 

It causes Bruce to become so full or resentment, to think if only he cared for her more. He didn’t need to stay in the office late, he didn’t need to check of the boys and look over the reports on the bank robberies involving the joker’s so called gang. They were plotting behind his back this whole time and touched the one person he truly loved.

"Uh Bruce?”

If he was there, none of this would have happened. If only he actually told her, if only he could not be a coward and open up to her. Surely she would understand.

“Bruce?”

After all their conversations and nights together they would have worked things out. Anything would have been better than the consequences you now face. 

“Bruce?”

“What?!” Bruce turns around in a snap and snarls as he becomes more irascible by the second.

“Jeez, it is always Jason that always sets him off.” Tim nudges to Dick.

Jason glares at the two of them before Damian speaks. “Have Gotham P. D contacted you yet about the incident?”

Bruce cools down a little, slouching back on his chair. He places a hand over his temple and exhales. “No, not yet. They have closed off the area but I feel we have the upper hand being there ourselves when it happened, but so far nothing else has come.”

Bruce notices the shift in mood in the room and he knows why. The boys saw your reaction to finding her and how he dealt with it. They saw a side to him they barely see at times, the weak vulnerable side that even scares Bruce at times.

But they don’t know the connection between the each other and he doesn’t want to know, well for now anyways.

To be honest, Bruce was never the one to keep one term committed relationships to the extend with someone outside the field of work. He does find Y/N to be incredibly attractive and genuine but he never thought about it being something for long. 

Not that he wanted it to end, god no, it is just that Bruce didn’t know if Y/N could survive it. He never wanted to put Y/N in a position that would risk their life, yet he never wanted to draw her into a world that could her for better or for worse. 

In the end, Bruce was just never ready to bring Y/N into his world full of chaos, but after last night, all Bruce intends to do is never let her go. He wants to hold onto Y/N so close to him that he could feel her breath tickle his skin and stroke her long locks of hair while they are close together in each other’s arms. 

He could stay awake just to watch her lul away to sleep and never even want to close his own eyes as no dream would ever be as perfect as to picture Y/N’s beautiful face. He could just spend his life in a sweet surrender with her, be lost in the moment with her. Every moment he spends with Y/N is a moment he truly treasures and he wants to be there with her to make until the end of his days.

“Bruce?” 

Now he jostles from his position to stare up at the four boys and Alfred.

“I told you he’s been acting very strange lately!” Alfred claims before turning his head back to fix Tim’s broken utility belt in the desktop nearby.

Bruce scolds at Alfred’s comment as he now sits amongst four boys who have their arms folded in a circle surrounding him.

“I did question what was going on father but I didn’t dare to intrude-” Damian starts.

“So spit it out then? What’s wrong with you now?” Jason overtakes, leaning in closer to irritate Bruce even more.

Bruce catches Dick’s gaze of ‘I told you this would happen’ but even now the man is defenceless. He just stares up exasperated, unsure how to even begin.

“God doesn’t like liars Brucie,” Jason grins while managing to pull over a desk chair to make himself comfortable before the conversation actually begins.

“You’ve been fixated on this woman ever since we found her!” Tim inputs to the group, his arms folded. “ I mean, if it was anyone else, I don’t think they’d get the same treatment.”

“Well now that we are mentioning it…” Damian starts innocently which means he was up to something. “I did look her up.”

“Damian!” Bruce tries to put on a deep gravelly voice but it has no effect on the young boy. “What?! I couldn’t help it!”

Now Bruce places his hand to massage his temples as the boys eagerly listen to the mischievous Damian.

“So spill the beans on the lady then!” Tim jokingly punches Damian’s arm. Damian coughs and presents his research to the boys just like a business conference meeting, pulling out a projector remote and pressing a button.

“Let me introduce to you Y/N, a reporter for Metropolis Daily Planet, an excellent crime reporter, yet lacks the charisma to deliver any good entertainment articles, which is a shame.” 

On the screen is a clear headshot photo of Y/N, looking impeccable to say the least. Even more personal records come up such as her academic achievements and personal interest which startles Bruce a little.

“Damian, where did you find all of this?”

He only shrugs. “Tim taught me one of two tricks on hacking.” 

Bruce gives his father-figure death glare to Tim over teaching Damian such information before Damian begins again.

“Three months ago Y/N attended Lex Luthor’s gala to interview many well known faces-”

“- including Bruce,” Cassandra interjects.

Damian nods. “Yes, Father was present at the gala and he featured in the article, but it seems she interviewed not a lot of people as she left early..”

The button clicks again to reveal video footage from the night of the gala to show Bruce leading Y/N to his car.

Jason whistles and jokingly shouts, “Player!” while the footage drags on. At this point Bruce is hiding his face with sheer horror.

Damian, who doesn’t take into account his Father’s current state, presses again and continues, “Now even since you’ve exactly met with this woman four times and with the knowledge and references seen in your texts messages-”

Now Bruce leaps up from his chair. “You hacked into my phone?!”

“No Bruce, that was your own fault. I know you password.” Damian smirks.

‘Dammit,’ Bruce can only mumble, reminding himself to change his phone again.

“It is quite clear that Bruce Wayne was in fact in a relationship with this woman behind our backs and they had planned to go out for dinner last night but things didn’t go to plan thanks to Tim Drake wanting to change the patrol rota again.”

Tim looks shocked to say the least. “My fault? Who almost tried to burn down the kitchen over the toaster not working?!”

“Hey I can explain, I didn’t mean it this time!” Jason defends himself.

“That’s what you always say,” Dick snaps and it isn’t long before there is an intense bickering match amongst the boys as they continue to snarl and rat on each other that Bruce and Cassandra have to scream, “ENOUGH!” 

They suddenly stop and turn back to face the tall older man who now stands up.

“Look the reason why I never told you all was because I know if I told you this would happen! I knew you wouldn’t take it too well. So I waited for the right moment.”

“Which would be when Bruce? I don’t know, probably when I’m dead again-”

“Shut up Jason!” They all, including Alfred, shout in sequencisation.  
“Let the man speak.”

Bruce steadies himself before he begins again. “Look, she doesn’t even know anything yet. She doesn’t know our identities or what we actually do.”

“And she doesn’t know about us?” Cassandra pipes up.

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Well then, well exactly are you going to tell her the truth?”

Bruce turns towards Dick to answer his question. “I want to give her time to heal after last night-”

“Last night could have happened because they already know she’s with you Bruce! I know you love her dude but come on, she could the catalyst to something more jeopardous.”

There is a moment of hot tension in the room before Cassandra speaks. “Jason’s right Bruce, you need to keep in mind that her life could be in danger. You need to let her know so that she knows what she is facing.”

Bruce now stiffens and glances up again. He can see how concerned they are but for Bruce, he never wanted to ever be pressured into revealing his true identity to someone, especially Y/N. 

At times he thought about how she would react, but he never cared too much. He never wanted to blurt it out, he wanted to let it out slowly and gently to her so that she could digest it properly. 

Unsure if he could face seeing them all look at him in this way, straightening his back, Bruce simply lets out a long breath and rubs his eyes. “Look I better check on Y/N, I’ll discuss this further on later.”

He doesn’t let them interfere as he walks away. What Bruce doesn't see are the looks of dysphoria on the others and as soon as the door closed behind him, Dick is the first to openly express what they were all thinking.

“Well we just fucked up the one good thing going for Bruce.”

* * * * 

You jolt awake, riding out the last waves of fear that starts in your sleep and carried over into consciousness. Phantom pain radiates from your abdomen and for the briefest agonising moment, you have no idea where you are and feared the worst.

Your heart thuds in your ears, rapid as the shallow breaths coming out of your mouth that you are trying to slow and you can feel your pulse slamming uncomfortably in your throat. Blinking rapid as the abject terror and pain starts to slowly ebb away, you manage to calm your breathing down a bit as you adjust yourself to the surroundings of the hospital room.  
You are safe. There is no here to harm you. 

A long steadying breath through your nose and out your mouth relaxes you as you glance over at the clock on the wall. Five- fifty.

It had been optimistic to hope that you’d get any real sleep. There is no way you’d be able to cope with the dreams tonight. The echo of a gravelly taunt plays in your ear again and again and again- ‘ _I want you to scream. I want to know you are hurting and that Batman is not here to save you._

As you start to take in more details, you begin to notice that unlike any other hospital you have ever stayed in, you have to say the Wayne’s facilities were impeccable. 

Judging from your late night stays in Gotham Hospital with Gail’s last minute drinking spree, there was no lingering smell of bleach or polystyrene tiles or a limp curtain that smelled of sick. 

Besides from the frequent vomiting and the abnormal tingling sensation from the lacerations, you seem to be passable. Besides, the tubing from your nostrils has been finally removed after another check up with the actual doctor, Leslie Thompkins, an old acquaintance to Bruce. And judging from her reports, you have gathered that you seem to be doing okay which was surprising judging fron your wounds. 

Okay was the only word you could think of to conjure of how you really felt.  
Although it wouldn’t be the best word to use, it seemed to be the only medical term you could surpass for now. It was better than anything else that lead to something more terrifying. 

You decide to remain motionless and intact, for now anyways. You tend not to get bogged down on what actually happened. Sure you could have actually died, but you focus rather on the fact that you’re alive and still breathing, and that is all that matters despite the fact you faced a minor concussion and are now left with a broken wrist, right leg and two ribs and a muddled mind.

Muddled. Okay. Alive. Such a strange conjunction of words to combine together. Last night you never thought you would end up like this battered and bruised rag doll. Sure you moaned while playing angry birds on your phone which often glitched while eating countless breadsticks as you waited for Bruce, but now you savoured that mere moment of sanity. 

What left you astounded the most was the fact that that voice, whoever it exactly was, actually knew you. You can’t help but feel a shiver just at the voice. He said your name, not just once, but countless of times.

That person, whoever it was, knew more than you ever imagined anyone to know. We're you that public in your reports for someone to know so much about you, or was this whole scheme planned ages ago in the hopes of mentally destroying you.

What is worse is the thought that someone had intended this kidnapping in the first place. A vile idea, to which you can’t stop questioning. 

Who in god’s name would want you dead? 

Maybe it was due to your criminal reports, exposing all the frauds who corrupted this city, that would be the start or something, a catalyst to creating a more destructive chaos that will never end.

But, maybe, this mass hysteria of frauds and cunning thieves and criminals could end with the guidance of such forces- the likes of Batman or Superman.

You hate to admit it, but after last night and what happened, you are left searching for more clues to what actually happened.

You can picture three masked men, one of tall build and the other more smaller, but was still able to withstand against the masked men who kept you hostage.

Their flexibility and flawless actions are still baffling, to think anyone could leap up three metres in the air and kick-punch their way out of a brawl was something.

They remained silent and intact while they continued to counteract the fighting while still managing to keep you alive.

And what still kills you the most is not how the dark murky suffocation from the men almost finished you, but the masked man saved you. His franticness frenzy to get your out alive was so profoundly stimulating to your mind as the memory plays back like a soothing song on an antique record player. 

The way he held you in his arms, like he never loved anyone as much as did loved you showed such great compassion from someone so...I humane...

That creature, that man, that hero, saved you from the grasps of death itself, yet he, for someone with extraordinary strength and durability someone came across as an ordinary human, a lost souls frantically searching for what he needed the most.

How can this person, someone you conjured up in your mind as you wrote dozen of articles about him, be someone completely different to what you depicted?

You thought of a stone cold heartless man who would never risk their live for anything, or anyone like you, or rather a man who didn’t risk his life for such piete crime. Yet he did do the unthinkable, exactly what you never imagined him to do.

This person, this human being made of the exact same flesh and bone as you still seemed abnormal compared to anyone else. Yet, his heroic efforts to save you reminds you of someone you never thought of, someone you would never associate in the same spectrum. Bruce.

Surely though, you are wrong. There is no way the man last night is same man today. No it can’t be. It just can’t.  
Yet as you ponder on this notion, you can see how his glamorous life could affect his life influences, and from your readings of many articles, his parents, Martha and Thomas Wayne were shot right in front of him, which could have easily spurred on this side to him.

You immediately shrug off that thought as the glass door to the room reveals a passing figure, a familiar face to say the least.

As soon as the door slides open you compose yourself and smile weakly.

With a small, tentative smile he asks,“How are you feeling?” There seem to be a dozen more anxious questions behind his greeting.

You only nod slightly, hoping your green face doesn’t expose the truth while your voice quivered timidly, “I’m feeling much better now, thank you.” You feel stupid for sounding so weak but it is the best you can do.

“I’m glad to hear,” he shuffles over to the chair beside your bed. He glances over at the monitor and nods, “Your blood pressure and heart rate seem to be good.” 

You can only nod your head again, not sure what to say again to this comment. 

“Did you sleep well?”

Hesitantly you say, “Um, yeah I did.” But he probably knows you’re lying with your weary eyes. There were gaps in your rest, where time skipped forward and you presumed you had drifted off to sleep although none of it seemed restful.

He steadies himself and pulls over the chair, looking at you. You can see the sense of overwhelming relief as he reaches out a hand to yours to lock your fingers together. Your palms touch as your finger entwine. The bases of your hands are so close that the warmth in between is shared, completely one. You can’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach just from his touch. 

“So,” you start, conjuring up his words for idle chat. “Care to explain about your staff?”

At first Bruce looks puzzled to say the least, unsure what to think until it finally hits him. “Oh you mean Dick, oh he’s-” he swallows and for a second you think he is suddenly changing what he is about to say. “-he helps out a lot in the business.”

You breathe out a sound that resembles a dainty laugh. “Oh that explains it, well he kind of looks like you.”

Now you see a shift in his facial expression, which he clearly knows you can see so he covers it up quickly with a smirk. “I have my preferences I guess.”

You hate the silence that follows but you both let it linger. You both need to adjust yourselves to what had happened so maybe a small sound of silence won’t be bad.

“Bruce, I-” you begin to say, to nudge things forward before the silence would drag buy a coat of bile on your tongue causes you to stop talking and you tightly squeeze his hand a little too tightly as he senses you are suddenly feeling an urgent pain. 

You don’t have long to explain your stomach pains before you start heaving up your insides out all over the sheets and all over Bruce’s grey shirt. 

The ghastly vomit stinks more effectively than any other times you got sick and what makes it ten times worse is knowing Bruce Wayne will have that reminder on his precious shirt forever.

You fumble, holding a hand up to your lips immediately apologising.

“Oh god Bruce I-” but instead of exacerbating the situation, Bruce Wayne just rolls back his shoulders and lets out a laugh.

“But I-” you want to finish, _I puked all over you and probably on one of your most expensive shirts_ , but he just keeps on laughing more and more hysterically with each second. 

“It’s fine Y/N, really.” He lets out another unexpected dark laugh. “I like it when you get all flustered over nothing.”

But you want to persist on how you just got sick on him but he places a finger over your lips. 

“It’s fine Y/N, I’m just glad we can share moments like this together.”

Unsure if he means, you counteract his comment with, “Yes, especially when the scent of sick hangs in the air,” but a burst of affection and relief at the jab warms your voice and ruins any attempt to sound sarcastic.

Bruce stands up and you can see the full damage of your actions as he walks away. The entire front of his shirt is covered in a large dark stain of your morbid bile and you can’t help but look away, so embarrassed that Bruce Wayne, one of the most influential people in Gotham has your puke on him.

In a matter of seconds though, he starts to unbutton the shirt and tosses it away, as if it is worth nothing and now to you astonishment, he stands there all in the bare buff.

Never in your time together did you ever notice his muscles but now you can’t help but stare as it adds further to your investigating. 

Bruce Wayne has a chest you have never seen before, like ever. He has a defined flat chiseled muscles that honestly make your eyes water just by looking at them. The tendinous intersection that separate the rectus abdominus into three muscle groups are so illustrated with precise detail that gives depth, but as you stare longer, you notice minor cuts inflicted onto his skin. 

As you squint your eyes closely, you can study the tiny scratches that cover the base of his chest. They look like scars inflicted from a knife, but if you are trying to join the dots together from last night, there were no knives- wait, one of the masked men did have a blade but did he slash it at any of the three masked heroes? 

You stare with baited breath until he catches your gaze. Swiftly reaching for a spare black shirt (you don’t dare to question why he had one tucked away in the old cupboard in the room), he winks and jeers, “Is it a nice view?” 

You manage a weak smile as you blush, not daring to answer back.

He can probably see the look reflected on your face- some sort of mixture of grief, frustration, guilt or even misery thrown in for good measures.

He stops and questioningly stares. “Is everything okay?”

You have been bracing yourself for this, but you weren’t prepared for the question just yet. You weren’t prepared for Bruce’s soft gentle tone, and despite your resolve to move forward, you hadn’t prepped the question honestly. You feel your lower lip graze your teeth before you confess, “I don’t know.” 

With the images of last night still too close to the front of your mind, and exhaustion stretching every emotion, you don’t trust your voice and what is happening. 

Even after asking, Bruce remains silent for a few seconds until he can only say the best he could think of, “That’s okay. That’s feeling normal” 

You sigh, which irritates your broken ribs as you try to fight the growing tightness in your chest. You press your hands hard against the white handle bars beside the bed until you hands turn white. “I just don’t know how to feel right now.”

You just stare down at your horrendous turmoil on your sheets. It sticks and smells so ghastly, you don’t know if the scent itself is clouding your thoughts or if the anesthetic is playing tricks on you.

Somehow, he catches your look. “Let me change the sheets and help you clean, and then I’ll show you a place that you may like.”

Weary that you could upset him if you declined his offer, you only nod. 

He perks up and comes back to place a hand behind your head, giving you a quick peck on the forehead. It is so quick you can’t even feel it. Bruce lets go and rushes to the bathroom, grabbing a wet cloth and in an instant, strips off the sheets and applies the cloth onto your arms and face to wipe off the excessive sweat. 

He is about to place the cloth on your legs before you object. “Look Bruce, honestly I know you’re trying to help but really, all I want to do is sleep.”

He steps back deflated, unsure what to say at first until the words form past his lips. “Ya sure, I understand. You must be exhausted.” He gets up and puts back the cloth and then replaces the stained sheets with freshly cleaned garments. But although the gesture is sweet, you can’t help but admit defeat, “Bruce, Is there a chance I can get a proper quilt? I am quite cold.” 

“I have a better idea” he says before turning back to you.

You don’t have time to say anything else before he gently repositions you to the side of the bed. 

“Bruce what are you doing?” 

“I’m going to be your safety blanket,” he whispers, climbing in underneath the sheets beside you.

Somehow he manages to squeeze in beside you in the cramped bed, wrapping his two arms around, making sure he is not leaning against any tubing on your arm.

Your body relaxes and turns to look at the man in your bed. You want to say something but you can’t. You just turn over and push your body into his sideline. Bruce remains staring dumbfounded until he

Close enough that the dream no longer scares you, far away enough that you don’t feel like running away.

When you wake up the next day, you are disoriented. You remember being with Bruce in hospital. You don’t recall him getting into bed with you. Bruce is clutching onto you as if he is afraid he’d slip away. 

You can’t help but smile, for once Bruce actually stayed with you for a whole night. Bruce must have never comforted anyone like this before in his life. 

Your smile grows as you try to turn over, with such a struggle due to your injuries. Bruce stirs a little in his slumber, looking so peaceful, drawing you in closer and pressing a kiss to his forehead and whispering softly, “Thank you for what you did last night.”

You do not realise that in fact, Bruce is awake, as he responds with closed eyes, “Do you feel better?”

“A bit,” you reply. “The pain has eased off a bit but this does help.Thank you for staying last night”

This time, Bruce is the one to smile. He pulls you closer into him as his arms are wrapped around you. He places a kiss on your lips and whispers, “ You’re welcome. If you ever need me, I’m here. Always.” 

You want this moment to last forever to mend the damage between you both with your constant questioning and self denial, but a phone buzzes before you can even catch your breath.

To your surprise, it is your phone, perching on the wooden press beside your bed. Unsure to even how it got here in the first place, you stretch out your arm to reach over to grab it.

You unlock your phone to see a dozen notifications appear all from three different people- Gail, Perry White and Clark Kent.

You immediately look at Gail’s text eight missed call notifications and text messages which consist of, 

_'Jesus Christ Y/N you better tell you magically wound up at Bruce’s or else I’m calling the police.’ \_ This was left at 12:45. 

After five missed calls at various stages of the night, there is another text all in capital letters.

 _‘ (FULL NAME) YOU BETTER BE ALRIGHT. THANKS FOR RUINING MY NIGHT YOU LITTLE SHIT, I HOPE BRUCE WAYNE BREAKS YOUR BONES WHILE YOU DO THE NASTY YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE FUCK’_

You can’t help but smirk at the text and you help a little laugh escape from Bruce. “Wow your friend has a way with words.” 

You look back at him and shrug. “Wait until you see her in the flesh. She’s ten times worse.” 

“Oh I highly doubt that, I know people far worse than her.” 

You both let out little snickers before you return back to your messages. 

Perry, who left three messages consist of the same tone and text.

_'Y/N, I am texting you as you have not turned in with your articles for this week’s paper which is urgently needed now. Your deadline is at 12:00 sharp and if I do not see it on my desk you face the consequences.’_

Your clock reads 10:57, which could be enough time for you to send it into his office, except you do not really have the means to travel yourself.

Clark's text is the last message to view, and once you open it, it reads:

_'Y/N where are you? I hope you haven’t spent in. Your article is needed and Perry’s going mad as we speak. I just hope you are not with him but rather just late. Just text me as soon as you’re up.’_

You overhear Bruce, “Who’s that?”

You instantly lock your phone. “Oh it is just a work colleague, that’s all.”

He lets out a flat sounding “Oh,” before he stretches out his arms and legs. 

You stare down at your phone again, unsure if asking Bruce after your last incident would be a good idea. You have the report typed up but it’s on your computer at work, which is securely locked with a strong password.

Bruce reaches over to place his hands around you again and starts pressing kisses on your neck, but you start to feel uneasy, especially about the entire situation that were stuck in a bed battered and bruised while no one else knows what happened.

“Bruce…” you murmur, the words trembling past your pale lips. “Can I ask you something?”

You can feel him tense up as he holds you. Unsteadily he says, “Yes, anything.”

You bite your lip before you allow the words to slip out. You couldn’t stand the thought of him seeing her weak and out of her depth again.  
“I have an article kept on my computer at work that is needed for today at twelve, I know it is too much to ask but-”

He doesn’t let your finish as he continues, “so you want me to give it in?” 

You let out a calm breath and twist around to him. “You don’t mind, do you?”

He is calm, cool and collective. “Not at all.” He places a warm kiss on your forehead before he sits upwards. As he slips out your way, you feel the tension return in your weak body that makes your skin crawl. 

He steps off the bed, his weight seeping away off the mattress. 

“Are you sure about this? Am I screwing up your busy work schedule?” You prod at him, just in case he is making his annoyance.

“Honestly Y/N, I want to help you in any way I can,” he promises, his lips perking up to a deep smile that sends relief throughout your entire body.  
You ignore all your instincts to ebb at him more so you just say “Thank you Bruce.” 

He faces the door, his clean shirt clinging to his ends as he ties the knots in his shoes. But just before he leaves, he turns back and his last words come out fast and easy, as if he isn’t holding back anything. “I’ll see you later Y/N. Love you.”

You feel bubbles of reassurance move down your chest that burst any sign of doubt that seized your tight chest. 

You reply with a smile as he leaves but as he leaves,you square your shoulders as another question pops into your cognitive mind.

_Do you really know this man?_

* * * * 

“Alfred, by any chance have seen my shirt?” Tim shouts across the hall.

“Sir if you more precise in your detail I could help,” Alfred claims as he sips a cup of tea. He hasn’t adjusted to the sudden intrusion of the most of the bat family members all at once, especially in these conditions that are nothing compared to Wayne Manor.

“You know the grey one, the one with the black strip on the sleeves?”

“Oh, you mean the one Jason is wearing?” Alfred, amused with himself retorts as Jason sits beside him reading the newspaper. As soon as he hears his name he cringes and curses at Alfred.

A loud boom can be heard afterwards as Tim screams with rage, “Jason you know that’s my shirt! You’re out-stretching it, I mean how are you managing to even wear it?”

Jason shrugs, realising overall it might be tighter than expected. “I found it in my laundry, so it’s your own fault I guess.”

“My fault?! Stop stealing my clothes!” Tim shouts again and Alfred lets out a deep breath of exhaustion.

But before another word can be spoken, Bruce enters buttoning up a new clean white shirt. 

“What is this I hear about you stealing a shirt?” He quizzes jocosely.

He only gets back a sharp, “Nothing,” from all three before Bruce quickly grabs a cup of black coffee. As the bitter steam from the coffee machine infuses throughout the glass room, Alfred perks his head up. 

“Where are you off to now?”

Bruce only replies back with, “ I’ve been asked to retrieve something from Y/N.”

“Oh so now you’re her slave?” Jason mumbles but Bruce only ignores him as he pours his cup into a travel mug.

“I’ll be back after noon,” he announces while he makes his way to the front door.

He doesn’t hear any farewells as he closes the door and makes his way out to the car.

He drives to the large scale Daily Planet building at 11:39, just a few minutes before the deadline.  
Embarking towards the building, Bruce braces himself for the various looks and whispers as he makes his way up to the elevator. 

After pressing the button to floor 34, the door closes and he is left alone to himself for a moment. He lets out a deep breath and composes himself by stretching his arms over his head and twisting his stiff neck. He can still feel Y/N's perfume on him, despite him changing his clothes. 

He still felt uncertain about the entire day and what had happened. He had caused so much pain and suffering for Y/N, yet so far, she hasn’t taken it badly. Or so he thought anyways.

He knows lust- he’d been consumed by its burn too many times- but Bruce knew the ways to appease it, how to avoid the table of attachment.

As he's held you last night, he had genuinely believed the result would be the same. Touching her would answer his lingering doubt about whether your skin could possibly be as soft as he imagined, even after the incident. Giving in to the pounding need in his head to confort you would be acceptable, just this one, before the truth came out. 

Instead, each second Bruce spent breathing your breath, running his hands along your face, fighting the temptation of your lips..it only feeds the burn in his chest. He wants to believe that he had done it because you needed comfort, or at least distraction. 

Buy the truth is, Bruce had held you because he wanted to. He hadn't thought about her reputation, or what anyone else might have cared to think. He had taken what he wanted and to hell with everyone else. 

Bruce feels a rueful smile spread across his face. And now he knows her, he had shown him her mind, and she opened up her heart, and now he knows the taste of his tears.

And he is now a wreck.  
He clings to his willpower as he tries to stay afloat, to remind himself of the important facts that remain , when she is soft and warm and alive in his hands. 

Could he kiss her, knowing he kept a dark secret about himself from her?

Coukd he kiss her, knowing that she has already suffered enough under the clutches of evil that could have been avoided? 

Could he kiss her, knowing she might burn the sane way he did?

Still, the words from the family still play back in his mind. He needs to tell her the truth, he has to. If he doesn’t, he will just be ripping open a bandage to nasty scarring that will never heal.

He has to tell her before she figures out. He knows Y/N. She could crack the morse coding and reveal your true identity. He just needs a way to tell her effortlessly- without causing any more damage-

Bruce’s mind spins as the elevator doors opens to reveal a standing figure who is smiling as he stares down at his phone. As soon as he looks up though, the smile disappears instantly.

The man steps in and immediately silence seeps through. 

Bruce is the first to speak. “Clark” 

There is a stiff reply. “Bruce.”

Another moment of weary silence until Clark speaks again. “May I ask why you are here? Y/N is not here for you to disturb her today.”

“I know.” Bruce stifles out a reply. “I’m here to give Perry an article.”

There is a grumble from Clark. Bruce can only state straight forward, unsure what to think about the entire situation. The silence stretches out for a few beats but is punctured when Clark speaks again.

“You better not be treating her badly or even thinking about using her to her advantage.”

The words do not even process for Bruce as Clark continue to ramble on. “You better not break her to pieces just because you think you’re better than anyone Bruce-”

Bruce let's out a humourless little laugh. “You better shut your mouth boy and learn some manners.”

Clark’s voice turns to a growl as he continues. “You just better not treat her badly, she is fragile, not anything like you. Have you even told her yet? She needs to know Bruce before she gets hurt and you can’t undo that damage.” 

“I’ll tell her when the time is right,” Bruce replies with a thin voice. 

“Don’t wait for the right time, tell her as soon as you can before anything happens.” Clark continues.  
“It would be the right choice.”

For some strange reason, Bruce feels a prickle run from his spine to his scalp. It runs with rage as he felt his entire body quiver with knots of furor, an almost apoplectic sensation. 

“Just don’t hurt her or else-” but before Clark could continue, he is slammed into the side of the elevator by Bruce, who has his hands tightly wrapped around his arms.

“Or else what Kal? You’ll glare at me until you'll blow me up to pieces,eh?” 

Clark doesn’t stir or try to, as he stares back at Bruce who eyes are flared while he grits his teeth while his wrath overpowers him.

In a matter of seconds, the elevator door swings open and Bruce let's go of Clark in the hopes of letting no one know what just happened. 

No one seems too bothered as phones buzz and people chatter while typing away as Bruce and Clark step out of the elevator. They both turn separate ways- one towards the printing room, the other towards Y/N’s desk.

Of course, as Bruce stepped closer to your desk, did he start to notice a few awkward glances towards him. But not being someone to care, he just steps forward and types in at your computer to access your files.

Bruce sits on your office chair, oblivious to the people around him as he opens up your files. You told him the article was based on the poor healthcare services in the area and as he searches- something else catches his eye. 

Bruce leans in at your desk as he clicks on one of the articles that appear on the desktop menu.

He peers closely as the full article comes onto the screen. The heading reads: **_Batman- The brave and the bold?_**

At first Bruce can only smirk for the clever title until he glances at the corner himself. 

_’...it seems the infamous Batman who ruthlessly terrorises the city has once again places his mark on the city as he plagues the city with his various methods of madness, and a new one to add to this long list is branding his criminals to the extent of personally victimising them…_

Flummoxed, Bruce stops scrolling and focuses on the word choice.  
_Terrorises the city._ _Methods of madness._ _Victimising._

Surely Y/N did not write this? He had heard of a reporter who did ruthlessly backlash him, it was one of Jason’s favourite reports to read. Yet he thought with the initials, it was a man who was simply jealous of his masculinity, but never a woman, never Y/N. 

Yet as Bruce observes her other documents, other titles appear such that simply astound him such as: _The Dark Knight unleashes more terror in Gotham_ _Batman- The new era of destruction_

_Why Batman is the killing joke_

There seemed to be dozens that stuck out for Bruce as he continued to scroll down but overall he struggles to come to terms with it all.  
Hardly she could be the one who writes this?

The thought sears his heart but before he can even fully understand what he has just seen, he hears a voice.

“Mr.Wayne!” Perry White calls out. He walks forward and swiftly Bruce closes the tab before he gets up to shake his hand.

“What seems to be the issue?” Perry eagerly questions without any hint of bitterness as he stares at Y/N’s desk.

“Oh, well I came here to hand in her article.”

Perry looks at Bruce suspiciously. “Oh alright, well the deadline was ten minutes okay.” He huffs.

“Well I came in to hand it in as she is very sick.”

Perry doesn’t seem too impressed. “Is that so? Well then, where’s the report?”

Bruce turns and manages to find it and press the send button and says smugly,“It should be on your desk right now Mr.White” 

Perry just stares hard at Bruce who then leaves without saying anything else. Everyone stares at what had just happened against the most influential people in the journalism and business worlds and feel shaken to have witnessed a moment that seemed minor but yet hid so much bitterness.

As Bruce leaves for the elevator, he feels the hairs rise up the back of his neck- a sensation he has never felt before, even in moments he had faced near-death experiences.

But no, what caused to act this way as knowing that someone he truly trusted holds secrets against him too. 

Although they weren’t as bad as he is making it out to be, it just meant that once he opened up to her about his life, she would have to open up about dehumanising his.

Either way, they both had secrets they both shared, and sooner or later, they had to unleash the tidal wave of  
truths would could make or break them in a whirlpool of chaos.


End file.
